


The Orient Express

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: 20th Century CE RPF, Amelia Peabody - Elizabeth Peters, Chalet School - Elinor M. Brent-Dyer, Lord Peter Wimsey - Dorothy L. Sayers, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: (sort of), 20th Century, 20th century politics, Blackshirts, Crossover, Detectives, F/M, Female Friendship, Multiple Crossovers, Mystery, Road Trips, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: "It's all so boring, Jack," Phryne sighed, interrupting Jack's attempts to calculate the exact times of arrival."That bad?"Phryne ran one hand through her exquisitely coiffed hair, pulling out the diamond ornament she'd been wearing, and rolled her eyes. "Oh, I can solve the case. Algie has all the correspondence and there'll be enough there to identify a probable suspect and hand it all over to the solicitors. But if this is all there is to do between here and Paris, I will expire of boredom."***Jack sees Europe through a train window, and Phryne solves mysteries.





	The Orient Express

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SassyInkPen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyInkPen/gifts).



**Constantinople**

 

"Why aren't we flying the rest of the way if it's so urgent?" Jack enquired, negotiating the crowded station platform at Constantinople. "God knows I don't like your wretched planes, but wouldn't it be faster?"

 

"In winter?" Phryne shuddered elaborately. "Jack. I have a sense of adventure, but it doesn’t extend to crashing in the Alps."

 

Jack conceded the point and negotiated his way around a large archaeological party being marshalled by a businesslike Englishman with a pencil moustache, currently standing on a packing crate and shouting to make himself heard.

 

"Your friend -"

 

"Peter, yes," Phryne said. "He did say it was important. Important enough to bring our visit forward two months and ask if I could make it three. Unfortunately that wasn't possible."

 

"Jane's school prize day," Jack said.

 

"Exactly - I couldn't miss that after being away from her for nearly a year. Peter can take care of himself perfectly well. Now that we _are_ in Europe, or almost, there is really no faster way of getting to Paris than the Orient Express. And my cousin did ask me to stop in and discuss his -" she twiddled her fingers elegantly - "little problem, so we may as well kill two birds with one stone." She came to a halt beside a compartment and gave Jack a smacking kiss on the cheek. "We'll get there quite fast enough."

 

Jack smiled helplessly at her, and glanced into the luxurious interior of the compartment before sparing a look back for the porters toiling behind with Phryne's luggage. Phryne's cousin had attempted to book them both single berths in different shared compartments, but Phryne had given him to understand firstly that that was nonsense, secondly that she refused to conduct a criminal investigation with a stranger sharing her compartment, and thirdly that Aunt Prudence need never know if they didn't tell her. "I suppose I can learn to live in the lap of luxury."

 

**Sofia**

 

Phryne's cousin, the Honourable Algernon Stanley, allotted them a generous measure of time to settle in as the train rattled elegantly out of Turkey and towards Bulgaria. Jack suspected he had his own list of tasks to accomplish, greeting each new passenger, ensuring they were comfortable, and that all supplies had been correctly laid in. Phryne, however, said Algie was being suspiciously evasive, and (after unpacking and thoroughly testing the accommodations) insisted on tracking him down. Jack was pretty confident that this was an excuse to nose around and get the measure of the passengers they'd be spending the next few days with, though even Phryne was too tactful to interfere with the archaeologist or with his robust English wife, brooding over a large pile of typewritten pages and a teapot in the dining car.  

 

Eventually they ran Algernon Stanley to earth at dinner, where Phryne extracted the facts of the case from him with her usual ruthless charm. It sounded like the kind of case she would have recommended to a solid forensic accountant and a good solicitor in order to avoid both police involvement and her own expiration from boredom, but family feeling obviously had some weight. (Jack sensed the not-at-all delicate machinations of Aunt Prudence.) Going by the nervous glances Algernon occasionally darted in Jack's direction, he either felt some culpability for the fraud taking place in a corner of the Compagnie des Internationales Wagons-Lits or had been instructed to get the measure of Phryne's young man.

 

On balance, Jack came down in favour of the former. Prudence Stanley had had years to get the measure of him, and if she didn’t like him as much as she liked Bert, at least she felt some grudging respect. Jack hoped.

 

They got through dessert, a cheese course, and tiny cups of brutally strong Turkish coffee before Algernon excused himself. Phryne and Jack went back to Phryne's compartment for a digéstif, and Phryne hurled herself onto the banquette with a discouraged sigh. The countryside outside was still Turkish, Jack thought, consulting the timetable. They wouldn't actually make it to Sofia until lunchtime the following day.

 

"It's all so boring, Jack," Phryne sighed, interrupting Jack's attempts to calculate the exact times of arrival.

 

"That bad?"

 

Phryne ran one hand through her exquisitely coiffed hair, pulling out the diamond ornament she'd been wearing, and rolled her eyes. "Oh, I can solve the case. Algie has all the correspondence and there'll be enough there to identify a probable suspect and hand it all over to the solicitors. But if this is all there is to do between here and Paris, I will expire of boredom."

 

"I suppose," Jack said, straight-faced, "we could always make our own fun."

 

Phryne's irritation turned, as reliable as the sun in the sky, to mischief.

 

**Belgrade**

 

Jack was struck by the prosperity and rapid growth apparent in Belgrade: even from the train windows, it looked imposing, gleaming with newness and confidence. Phryne was struck by the appearance of a pair of teenaged girls, one with dark gold hair pulled back under a fur cap and a jewelled brooch sparkling in the station's lamps, the other less distinctively dressed and wearing her dark hair in a bob. Trailed by a maid and a male escort who looked like he meant business and probably had a revolver in a concealed holster, the pair had their heads together, close as sisters, and were speaking to each other in piercing public school English punctuated with phrases in Austrian-accented German. At least, that was what Phryne said, and she had a finer ear for accents than Jack did - and she knew who they were, or at least she knew of one of them.

 

"How interesting!" Phryne said, in a tone that suggested she'd found something much more intriguing to chew over than the snowdrift of correspondence Algernon had laid before her that morning, like a hapless puppy with a too-large stick. "Princess Elisaveta. And a schoolfriend, perhaps. I wonder if this means anything for Belsornia's independence, or if this is just a joyride?"

 

Jack, feeling inadequate to answer this question, excused himself in search of the gentlemen's conveniences and was rapidly caught up in the maelstrom of a panicking American family who had mislaid their son between Niash and Belgrade and now discovered that he was not, as expected, in the restaurant car.

 

Jack asked himself where he would search for Jane Ross-Fisher under such circumstances, came to a rapid conclusion, and made a quick trip to the engines, where he found Hugh Carter Lewis (the Third). Hugh Carter Lewis the Second and Mrs Carter Lewis having expressed their gratitude at length, Jack excused himself, finally located the gentlemen's conveniences, and returned to the compartment as the train began to pull out. Phryne was already in bed.

 

"I was beginning to think you'd jumped ship," Phryne remarked, eyeing him with interest over the novel she had picked up. Georgette Heyer, Jack noted, probably borrowed from Dot. She must be really bored with Algernon's case. "What happened to you? You're rather grubby."

 

Jack swiped ineffectually at the smudge on one cheek. "I've been rescuing children and hobnobbing with engine drivers."

 

"All in a day's work for the Victorian police force," Phryne said cheerfully. "Please get the soot off before you come to bed."

 

**Venice**

 

The station in Venice looked old-fashioned and rather ragged: Phryne, characteristically well-informed and gossipy, told Jack that it was due to be completely replaced, but no-one had been able to decide on exactly what to do with Angelo Mazzoni's daring modernist plans. Jack eyed the motheaten grandeur around them and wondered whether he regretted not getting a closer look at the city of the Doges. He'd felt very little curiosity about Turkey, having seen a certain amount of it during the Great War through no particular fault of his own, but he'd never seen so much as a corner of Italy.

 

"We can take the slow road home," Phryne assured him, apparently reading his mind.

 

They were supposed to be conferring over their notes, and a final solution, to the fraud case. Jack had a shrewd idea of what Phryne was about to tell him, and the mid-afternoon quiet of the saloon car had seemed like the perfect place to go over it - there was nobody else there but the archaeologist's English wife, still going over her manuscript - but Phryne's attention had been distracted by the arrival into Venice. The Carter Lewises had disembarked noisily, though not before losing and finding Hugh Carter Lewis (the Third) again, the princess and her English companion had scuttled through laughing about something in German and carrying coffee and biscuits on a tray, and through the cracked-open window Jack could hear as well as see a handsome and imperious English couple arriving on the platform. They had the air of robust people in their late fifties, though Jack suspected they were significantly older, and they were pursued by a considerable amount of luggage.

 

They were also loud.

 

"And for God's sake, Peabody," the gentleman roared, "this is a leisure trip! _No more dead bodies_!"

 

Jack blinked. Phryne sat upright. But the most remarkable effect was on the English writer, who muttered "Oh God!", seized her manuscript, and fled the saloon car. Jack and Phryne's heads swivelled round to follow her departure, and then - equally synchronised - swivelled back to give each other meaningful looks.

 

After a few moments of useless speculation, Jack coughed. "You were saying about this fraud case."

 

"Ah." Phryne looked down at her notes and grimaced. "Well, rather awkwardly, I'm fairly sure it's Algie's sister. Which is probably the most embarrassing thing to have happened to the Stanley clan since my mother married my father."

 

**Milan**

 

There were men in black uniforms on the platform in Milan, and Algernon - now so uncomfortable he could hardly meet their eyes - had stopped by their compartment to say that there was a significant threat of snow at the Simplon tunnel and delays were possible. Phryne stewed. Jack wondered how long it would be before she took to dancing on the roof of the moving train to burn off her excess energy.

 

Two Blackshirts were lurking outside the window. Jack considered a sharp word or two to get them to move on, but reluctantly decided it was pointless; they probably spoke no English and he certainly spoke no Italian. Phryne, too, would likely become involved, and anything involving Phryne tended to snowball.

 

He shut the curtains instead, as pointedly as possible, and escorted Phryne to dinner.

 

At dinner, Jack noticed that their small table garnered an unusual degree of attention from the Princess Elisaveta's party. They were all speaking German - which Jack did not speak, and which Phryne spoke in a rather demotic form learned in nursing stations and ambulances, so eavesdropping would have been of no use - but the English girl's "I'm sure it's her," was audible even over the robust conversation the elderly English couple were having with the archaeologist and his wife. (It transpired that they were all, one way or another, archaeologists, and that they did not get along.)

 

Phryne raised her eyebrows at Jack and ate her mouthful of sole meunière in a meaningful kind of way.

 

"I don't know what the protocol is when a princess is staring at you," Jack said.

 

"Well, you're supposed to wait for them to come to you," Phryne said. "But I do have a few questions for that young lady. There was a case a few years ago -"

 

"Can it wait until after dessert?" Jack said plaintively.

 

In the end, it waited until after Phryne and Jack's digéstif and found them in a compromising position. It was almost like having Jane back on the premises - Dot and Mr Butler tended to have more tact. Jack and Phryne hastily disentangled themselves and neatened themselves up; Jack went to the door while Phryne tidied her hair, and was surprised to find himself staring down at the wholesome English schoolgirl with the bobbed hair who was accompanying Princess Elisaveta.

 

"Good evening, Miss...?" Jack said, raising an interrogative eyebrow.

 

"Bettany," the girl said, hopping from foot to foot. She had very lively and rather intense eyes, and was currently chewing on her lower lip. "Josephine Bettany. Er, is this Miss Phryne Fisher's compartment?"

 

Jack exchanged a glance with the paternal train guard, who had certainly already told Miss Bettany whose compartment it was, and Phryne herself, who nodded. Jack stepped aside and let the child in. She couldn’t be more than sixteen - seventeen at the outside. Phryne must have been right in identifying her as a schoolfriend of the princess's, although she didn’t look particularly well-to-do or sound like a member of the nobility. "It is. I'm Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, a colleague of Miss Fisher's."

 

"Oh!" said Miss Bettany, clearly doing the maths on the number of beds in the compartment and how many of them were actually used. "Well, I've come from the Princess Elisaveta, and I'd like to ask if Miss Fisher would be willing to take on - take on a case. I love mysteries, you see, I want to write novels, and I always follow Miss Fisher's cases. When I can." Miss Bettany wrinkled her nose. "We don't get very detailed news from Australia. But Bess's half-brother has a cousin who lives in Melbourne, so he sends me everything he hears."

 

Jack clamped mercilessly down on a grin, which she might take for condescension. Miss Bettany's forthright enthusiasm was having its effect on Phryne, who had clearly spotted another intelligent young woman to adopt.

 

"Well, I'm expecting to take on a very urgent case in Paris," Phryne said, "but if I can provide any advice in the meantime, of course, I'd be happy to."

 

"Oh good," Miss Bettany said, a swift smile flashing across her face. "Elisaveta will be thrilled. Would you mind coming to our compartment? Herr Kapitän prefers Elisaveta to visit areas he's made sure are safe, after - well, I'm sure you heard. Even in Australia."

 

Phryne nodded and said "Of course." Jack pretended he had half an idea what she meant.

 

 

And that was how Phryne and Jack ended up consulting with a princess and her schoolfriend over the disappearance of some valuable items of jewellery. Princess Elisaveta described them as 'birthday presents'. Jack, after having seen Miss Bettany's rough sketch and heard the princess enumerate the stones, described them as 'a small fortune'.

 

"It's particularly important because my grandfather gave them to me," Princess Elisaveta confessed. "They're not heirlooms, but I don't want anyone to think that I wasn't careful with them."

 

Jack didn’t know anything about Belsornia, but he could imagine the newspapers asking how a princess who couldn't take care of a necklace could possibly become queen of a country. He took her point.

 

"And everyone has searched their bags?" he asked.

 

Both girls nodded.

 

"Can I ask an impertinent question?" Phryne said, and carried on without getting a reply. "How often have you been told you should replace your English schoolfriend with a Belsornian lady-in-waiting, Princess Elisaveta?"

 

Miss Bettany gave her friend a startled look. "You didn't say anything!"

 

Princess Elisaveta lifted her nose into the air. "It's none of their business who my friends are. Nobody who matters has said it, anyway - only a few old traditionalists, and even they respect you for what you did when I was kidnapped."

 

Herr Kapitän's concerns suddenly made a lot more sense to Jack.

 

Phryne pulled in a soft breath. "Can I offer a suggestion, your highness?"

 

"Please do," Princess Elisaveta said regally, fending off Miss Bettany's kicks on the ankle and impassioned demands to know how long this had been going on.

 

"Miss Bettany is due to depart the train at Lausanne early tomorrow morning and catch a through-train to Zürich, isn't she?" (The girl in question nodded.) "Wait until a couple of hours before arrival and then check her bags."

 

"But -"

 

"And then," Phryne said, "wait to see who's loudest in calling for her dismissal."

 

"Oh," said the Princess Elisaveta softly, her eyes narrowing very slightly, so that Jack could see the queen inside the schoolgirl, waiting to get out. " _Oh_."

 

**Lausanne**

 

Very early the following morning there was an unholy row from a compartment down the corridor, composed of equal parts English, German, and shrieking, with a garnish of confused and imploring French from the train guard. Jack covered his head with a pillow and Phryne dragged his arm over her ears.

 

Several hours later, Jack got up to use the gents and had a word with Philippe the guard. He learned that the princess had retrieved her jewellery, the English mademoiselle had departed in good spirits, and Fräulein Gutermuth had been dismissed with menaces. Apparently, Philippe disclosed in a hoarse whisper, she had been _taking bribes_.

 

Jack digested all of this, and provided Phryne with a brief précis before their departure for the dining car. This was just as well, because Phryne was not fully sentient before her morning coffee, and Princess Elisaveta presented her with a pair of stunning sapphire earrings and the good wishes of the Belsornian crown before Phryne's eggs Benedict had even approached the table.

 

"The lady detective strikes again," Jack said, toasting her in tea when the princess had returned to her own breakfast.

 

Phryne laughed.

 

**Paris**

 

"I feel I’ve seen a lot more of Europe," Jack said, peering out of the window at the approaching Gare de Lyon. "From train windows at great speed, mostly."

 

"But at least not through the clouds," Phryne pointed out, taking his hand.

 

Jack flashed her a grin, and was pleased to get Phryne's brilliant smile in return.

 

"Venice is underwater, Lausanne is provincial, and Milan is full of Blackshirts," Phryne said cheerfully. "Paris, though. I can't wait to introduce you to Paris."

 

"In among whatever your friend has planned for your attention," Jack reminded her.

 

"Our attention," Phryne corrected. "It's sure to be _fascinating_." Her bright blue eyes were sparkling already. "Peter doesn't waste anyone else's time. But he is also a noted connoisseur of wine, women and song, and let me tell you, he knows how to have a good time."

 

"I'll try to keep up."

 

Lord Peter and his manservant met them at the station, pre-collected porters in tow. The Princess Elisaveta's receiving party bustled nearby, drawing a muttered swearword from that young lady. Jack strained to catch the meaning of all the shouting in French over the noise of the train and the hustle of the station, and finally gave up, as Phryne and Peter greeted each other like the old friends they evidently were. Even at first glance they seemed similar, for all Phryne was taller, darker, and far more brightly dressed: fashionable, frivolous, powerfully charismatic and powerfully curious.

 

The sun shone brightly over Paris, and somewhere among the tall, palely elegant shuttered buildings, crime was afoot.

 

Jack grinned. He certainly wasn’t going to be bored.

 


End file.
